But the aulder I get the mair I think o' the bit whaur I was born.

It was twae miles from Wamphray on the Lockerbie road, but they tell me the place is noo just a rickle o' stanes.' 'I was wondering, mistress, if I could get a cup of tea in the village.' 'Ye'll hae a cup wi' me,' she said.

'It's no often we see onybody frae the Borders hereaways.

The kettle's just on the boil.' She gave me tea and scones and butter, and black-currant jam, and treacle biscuits that melted in the mouth.

And as we ate we talked of many things--chiefly of the war and of the wickedness of the world.
'There's nae lads left here,' she said.